torsdag 26 april 2007

"Sword". She says out loud and lies the sword down on the concrete floor. "Toledo steel" . She sits down besides it, staring out into the half-lit room. Without looking she withdraws it from the scabbard and nimble, tiny fingers touches the cold metal of the blade. Her fingertips comes to rest there. "Sword" she repeats, "Toledo steel".
Unseeing eyes stares ahead, looking at something that isn't there. Her free hand streches out, seem to capture something from the air. "Chess piece....queen". She meditates on this. "still a pawn"
She plucks something else from the air, her right hand still resting om the sword. "Ring" another pause. "King......but only metal". Again the change. "Dice....chance." This one she seems to ponder for quite some time before shaking her head and dismissing it into thin air. "No such thing."
She leans her head to the side now and gets one more immatrial object.

"The Cross" She holds her empty hand up to the weak light, like she really saw something in it that she wanted some light on. She then moves it towards her chest where her own cross is nesting. She rest like this for a few seconds, left hand hiding the necklace. Then a wave, a cramp moves through her body, and her right hand is almost snatched away from the sword. She again lifts her hand away from her necklace and seem to stare with sadness and disgust at whatever invisible thing she's holding.

torsdag 19 april 2007

There is a Baptist church i New Orleans and there are many doors within this church.
There was a knock upon a door in New Orleans.
There was a knock upon a door in New Orleans and it was answered.
"Jeremiah." The black man who opened the door for his visitor stated, like it really wasn't a surprise."Do come in. Have a seat"
"Thank you, Father Hosaia." The younger looking man nodded to the priest, into whose office he now entered with swagging confidence. The black man, who boar some resemblance to Malcolm X for those who knew of the reference, held the door open for a second more and then closed it gently behind his guest. He crossed the floor, which was covered in outdated green carpeting, probably from the 1960:s, and got into the chair behind his desk. The office was quite well lit. He did not offer his guest a drink as Jeremiah sat down across from him. They sat in silence toghether for a while, Father Hosaias index fingers pressed toghether, building a pyramid with his hands.

"Father Hosaia" The young man started the conversation. "I understand that you have heard from Talulah"? Hosaia adjusted his heavy 1950:esque glasses upon his nose and sighed although he did not need to. "Yes." His face was blank and unreadable. "And as I understand this should be good news as her whereabouts were up for some debate? And that we even lacked confirmation on wheter she was alive or not?? The young man continued. Father Hosaia put one of his hands on the table and calmly drew a cirkle with his index finger, following it with his gaze. Like he was waiting for the other man to say something more. But the visitor did not."I recieved....a letter....yes."

The visitor lit up, all smiles now. "Ah, and she is well, I trust!?" He threw his hands up in some kind of mimic of a relieved gesture. The Father gave him a blank stare, with heavy eyes. "No...she is not. The letter was not from her." Now it was the visitor who went blank, but there was some surprise to his features. Then he put his hands together, mimicking empathy and compassion. "I'm truly sorry tah hear. Does this mean we have to take....precautions?" This provoked a deep, almost subsonic growl from the black mans position, but nothing changed in his features. "She is not.....It isn't...she's not into that kind of trouble." He opened one of the wooden drawers in his impressive desk and picked up a letter that had been hidden within. "The letter is from a Nosferatu Elder named Skuld." He put it very gently upon the desk between them, like he was daring the other man to pick it up. "She writes to let me know that my childe is currently in her employment in Gothenburg." He got up from his chair, but stayed behind the desk, leaning slightly over it. He was an impressive sight, for a clergyman. And beneath his priestly collar the scar of his hanging could now be seen."Which is in Europe. Which makes her an European elder.....now please tell me, Mr Jeremiah, what kind of precausions you wish to make with my childe?"

They stared at eachother in silence. Father Hosaia needed not draw his claws. Mr Jeremiah did not need to show any of the plethora of powers that were at his disposal. And in the end Mr Jeremiah got up, not to quickly and not to slowly. He opened the door himself. But as he was about to walk out the door, he stopped. Without turning he spoke once more "One of these nights Hosaia...There are lot's of gangrels in Europe too...and I don't think I need to cross the ocean just for her. She is not that special.? He paused. "And she will not save the world."

She had been to the Tabernacle on Storgatan just prior to coming to the Elysium on Kungsgatan. There had been a musical portraying the last hours of the life of Jesus. It had been invigoration. The happiness and the warmth of those people. They even had headphones that gave her a translation to english of what they were saying, and singing. Not that she really needed one. She was so in tune with everything that happened on stage.
Some of the other homeless men that she used to meet at the soupkitchen that the Tabernacle used to give four times a week had also come. Most only because the weather had taken a turn to the worse, becoming colder again. Afterwards there was coffee for the rest of them. She herself walked up Raoul Wallenbergs street, across the bridge and over the canal to Elysium. She liked using her feet. They had served her well in her years, before her eyes were opened up.

A lonely figure moves across the canal, past the University building for Pedagogy. She is dressed in black cotton and linen and black leather and she wear a cross across her chest. And she carries her heart on her sleeve.

Hon mumlar för sig själv."All who use swords are destroyed by swords.
Don't you realize that I am able right now to call to my Father, and twelve companies, more, if I want them, of fighting angels would be here, battle-ready?
But if I did that, how would the Scriptures come true that say this is the way it has to be?"

She awoke
she had to be awake.
The two pains were confusing....his wounds and her own still melting into one feeling. Talulah sat up in the bath-tub where she´d chosen to rest for the day. Not only was the once warm bath-water now icy cold, but as always her lifeblood had seeped away from her, turning the water ar sickly pink. Her lifeblood...or his?
She half-expected the angel already, but there was no such precense in the darkened room. Slowly her wounds closed themselves to their maximum extent, leaving her famished. Hungry. Hungry once more. You could run....yes....one could run, or flee...but what had God asked her? He only asked of her that she go....where angels fear to thread.

1. She didn't know if the others we're watching her, and she didn't really care. She didn't know if he would be able to hear her, or find it in his heart to try to understand her. But it was important to God that she at least tried. And in the dark and crowded room which smelled overwhelmingly of blood and hate she crouched in front of him where he sat chained to the broken down sofa.

I'm sorry angel...so sorry.

His face was a mess now. Some of the others had really shown a mean streak in their cruelty. They took turns now that their elders were away. Responsibility thrown aside. They see him as the enemy - the thought appeared to her. Just the way that Mister Jansson treated that sabbat they asked her to interrogate. But in many ways this was worse.
And then, the shrilling vision played out in front of her. His soul twisted, darkened...and broke...as the mind of another touched his and violated it's most basic nature.

I think it might be time to stop now....please?

Afterwards she sat beside him. But there was nothing she could do. She ran her fingers through his bloodmatted hair as he lay still. Nothing else she could do. She couldn't even think of a fitting psalm.

2. The darkened corridor outside the strange room at the elysium. They were both crouched down on the floor, herself and the Captain. That thousand mile stare of hers. Something tired in the way she, the captain held herself.

Chaos
Forrest.
The pain was excruciating even though her enemy didn't hit anything vital. She'd taken worse but most of those times she had been face to face with her enemy, not jumped from behind and pinned to the ground. And it wasn't his claws pinning her to the wet ground that hurt the most, it was the fact that she was kept as an captive, an hostage against her clan. Just because she had been the slowest one, the one who set the pace for the rest of them. The one he had been toying with.
They snarled threaths to eachother in swedish and when they turned to talking instead she felt the pain subside and let loose it's grip. Slowly she worked herself over on her back, still lying down, only to find herself in the midst of a blaze of auras aflame....
The thud of the weapon, the uttered words of disrespect and she could see Taylors beast lunge before him. So she went for the enemy.

They all did.

And in the following darkness she could feel nothing more than impending doom and regret ...as his blood was on her hands.

They hunted in a pack for them. There was the Angel, and Alice, and Taylor and a Tremere and others getting fuzzy to her eyes.

Camerapeople. Warm camerapeople confused Talulah, the pitiful creature. Warm camerapeople who hid in the crowds where she could not se them as they flickered and melted in with everyone else.
Return and tell the captain. Return and report about them and what had happened. She´d know them if she ever saw them again, but she wished that she wouldn't. Wished she could wish them away. But that was only because she was a pitiful exuse of a soldier. Part of her had wanted to run away, to give in to the base instinct. But they were warm and almost human. They we'rent the Hurricane Katrina. They were not an act of God.
She wanted to be whole again. She longed to be whole.
She longed to be with God again, but she felt herself slipping further away from herself, and from God.

Where was He, when she needed to se His bravery? Where was He when she needed the good example? She'd do what He asked of her, to the last drop of her unholy blood. Just to see His approval.

And for the ArchAngels approval.
And for the Captains approval.
And for the Reverends approval.
And for the Angel Choirs approval.
And for the approval of Jesus.
And for the approval of God.

05:30 in rain and storm. Talulah wished her captain would offer to hold her hand whilst they jumped ship into the blackened, enraged sea with their extra load. Instead she held the limp body of their Sabbat enemy tight to the tattered mess that was her own. The impact was great enough to first push them far below the wawes and the chock of cold was still enough to register as utter pain somewhere in her subconsious. Then her reflexes took over and spasmic kicks transformed themselves into something that propelled herself and her cargo back to the surface where the searchlights from the coastguard blinded her. She tried to turn, to search the area with her eyes to relocate her captain but lacking the power of potence all her might was forced into the one great task....keeping herself afloat, and keeping to orders.

....just keeping to the orders....

Where were you when I was lonesome?
Locked away with freezing cold
Someone flying only stolen
I can't tell this light so old

I don't want to swim the ocean
I don't want to fight the tide
I don't want to swim forever
When it's cold I'd like to die

What was that my sweet sweet nothing?
I can't hear you through the fog
If I holler let me go
If I falter let me know

I don't want to swim forever
I don't want to fight the tide
I don't want to swim the ocean
When it's cold I'd like to die

There are always things that are worse, and to Talulah there was a strange comfort in that. She'd been bad, Jezebel, not following orders at all times. But she only did it in a hapless try to protect them. To protect them all.
She had failed.

She sat besides Tyler in the car, riding with him and Jack, who she was getting to know better. If they've been human she would have felt the warmth from them, but none of them were.
It was the same as last time, the headset, so that she could talk inside the heads of everyone and warn them. Keep them safe. And a vest to keep herself safe.
The reverend had actually dug up her old shot-gun from the church in New Orleans. Actually dug up, the dried up mud from the flooded church after hurricane Katrina could still be seen in the carved details of the stock and recoil pad. She could use this one better than the modern, halfautomatics from last time.

It started with rain that evening, and it did not stop completly until the sour stench of diluted sewage took over when the cover blocked out all the lights of the city.

She would see him again that night, as she had carefully taken to herself to remember. October the 20th, in the park. She didn?t know what the ?vattentorn? was, but she?d get there. She just had to.
There was some rustling, and there was carefull stepping and straightforward walking and some were missing but eventually the hill was climbed and they were there. And he was there. In the multitude of shadows on the brown gravel their souls shone with faded colors, and his was the brightest of them all. As topics were brought to the surface, their intensity faded and spiked, to fade yet again. Flickers of animalistic traits and cigarette after cigarette was lit one after another. They didn?t exactly disagree, but they didn?t exactly agree either. Old souls, or at least tattered, and even the bravest of them thread carefully at times.

Then Elysium, where higher clans roam and all those thing she does not understand happens. All the rules she cannot help but break. Reassuringly, two familiar faces stand out from the crowds of new arrivals. They were not exactly friends in New York, but they were not enemies nor rivals either and it is good to speak of good times with someone who does not miss half of what one is saying. Toreadors.

But it is odd. There is movement amongst the Gangrels and He is missing. When He comes back, he is not alone. With Him comes Jack. And to Talulah. Jack is a whole other chapter by himself.

First comes the Archon with his dark brown hair, golden eyes and olive skin. Then comes near-shaven hair on a skull tightly draped with withening skin. The marks of the hungry. Red eyes, a flash of a toothy grin and then there's a Gangrel in the way, so Talulah can't see. It's like it's not ment for her to see him. The man...chuckles. Did she hear him right? Her ears hardly ever fails her.
Neither does her eyes, there is hardly a man or woman who does not have some kind of strong reaction to the entrance made of these two people.
Taylor, who IS he?
That's Jack. Taylor light is gleaming, spinning, faster, faster. She looks away. The man is by the stage, in front of the prince. He's on his knees and the prince looks at him. Someone is standing behind the curtain, with his foot on the homecomers hand. She doesn't think anyone else notices. But she notices. They all go to the hidden room. The prince, the Archon, everyone important, Jack. Some get thrown out. They weren't important enough.
She wait's.

The angel comes to her.
Have Jack contacted you? No. Have you heard rumours of Jack? No. Have you seen Jack before tonight? No.

I don't know Jack.

The Angels light shone upon her for a little while longer, and he was displeased with her, but did not raise his hand or sword against her and let her be.

There was a rush as life returned to the elysium. The black curtains separating the bar from the hidden room moved from a silent wind and they came back. He rushed past her, not even giving her a glance and then there was this man, this Jack. He staggered forth across the room, red with stripes of white moving across the aura in an electric pattern. When he reached the billiard table he almost collapsed in front of her from the pain and it was then she knew... she had to know him, and what had happened.

The balcony in the rain, Basha and Magnusson giving him blood they've gotten from the bar. It mixes and mingles with the downpour, weakening it. Everyone is excited, whispering amongst themself in swedish gibberish.

Who IS Jack?

They look up, they're amused. He's amused. She doesn't know who Jack is, and for some reason, that strikes them as funny. They leave, one after another, to let him tell her himself. Basha leaves. Magnusson tells her to watch Jack until Basha takes over. She nod, finally somethings she understands. And so, Talulah Jezebel gets to hear parts...pieces about what has happened in Gothenburg.

But still, Jezebel doesn't know Jack.

People want's to speak with Jack and Talulah watches him, as she has promised. He is strange, but in this strange city he fits in, like a slightly different pice of the puzzle. A whole clan demands his precense and she waits outside the door to the strange room. When the meeting is finished they walk toghether down the corridor, as they turn the corner something shimmers in the air and becomes visible as it moves. It's one of the better dressed vampires, and his movement is a hand that reaches for Jacks shoulder, Jacks surprised look and reaction makes her senses focus on this man. She snaps her teeth at him, get's in his way, and on the knot of his tie rests a tiny cross. He says something in swedish to Jack, unitelligble to her, but his soul isn't.

It's not for a christian man to gloat...

It comes out clear, for the first time in over a year, but then she's ripped back to reality by a rough hand on her shoulder. She almost thinks Jack is going to be mad at her so she snaps her teeth again, ready for the slap which does not come.

He's an Elder Jezebel! That's Van Dike, that is!
No way to treat you. Ungodly.
He's an Elder!

And that is that.

The clan is in the park by the canal and the rain still pours. Tempers run high as they argue with each other about the best plan of action. No one has the time to explain or translate what they say, but she picks up bits and pieces, really trying to understand what they mean.
Some of them, she can se right through, some are partially closed to her. And then He speaks in anger. Israel tries to get a word in and Jack nearly mauls him. But they say things, signal things that confuses her. She does not understand the undertows, the currents even though she can almost se them clearly. And then Jack speaks again and it's almost like everything clicks into place inside herself. She goes cold, her heart sinks. If He doesn't want to take care of them, is she then one of them? Or is she an individual in herself?
Choices, He demands choices.
Choices and obedience to the system. She can do both.

I?
they can?t hear her. Louder then.I fight for GOD?.I?m leavink..!

She walk's away as fast as she can without breaking into running. She has to do this. She has to reach this elder before he leaves. She has to talk to him, ask him before he disapeares.
If she shows courage, and obedience in this, maybe he can see her and in time even care for her.

Elder Afif! Do you fight for God, or do you fight for yourself?

And that is why she pulled the sewage cover over her head and put out the lights of the city, and decended to darkness and pain once more. Because it had to be done. Pay through pain, as she later told Jack. Pay through pain. And they gave her a lot of pain to pay with. But there was also music by Sinatra, and the rats and last but not least, the readings of the scripture.
And she reverted to herself and looked just they way she saw herself. And some of the nosferatu understood, but none of the gangrels except for maybe Jack.

They got back from Malmoe, and though Theo had died in front of her, it was massive scenes of slaughter that burned so deep in her mind now. Seeing the souls go out one after one. Sometimes sudden, and at other times fading slowly, like embers in a dying fire. And she had touched the monster with her own claws, the creature from hell. A moment of ice cold horror. And then Basha shoving her aside and putting the nozzle down the hole and firering.

But they did get back to Gothenburg.
Elysium was even more confusing than battle. She got to meet the prince and smoke those fat cigarrs which she hadn't touched since she sold them herself. On the balcony her eyes darted back and forth from the prince to Kiralý. But still...she was not presented. She was not presented but got invited to a ball. A toreador ball.

Why was she thinking about him? He needed noone, no help from her.

The ball

Nervousness. Nervousness and hunger. There was a church not far from the ball, Hagakyrkan. Had she still had her heart it would have been ticking at the speed of light. She was uncertain how she looked. The toreadors would laugh at her, in her old dress. But the toreadors always laughed att her, even when they didn't show it. Oh, oh. Talulah braced herself. He is inside....he will be. He had an invitation.

She had hoped to bring someone. Someone who owed her and would dance with her and tell her what to do. But now she was alone. She was here and she was the only gangrel she knew except for Kiralý, the newly appointed Archon, who was so high above her. And his lady was.... Skuld. Upon seeing this Talulah felt a strange feeling inside that she didn't recognise...it was hard to stand...and she could do absolutley nothing about it. Nothing.

There was a table with drinks, and to her great relief, some other single ladies. She thought about Reverend Hosaias advice and approached them.
Be nice, be courteous, ask them questions about themselves.
Point out your own good sides but be humble.
Identify the harpies. Stay clear of the ones you can't handle. Talk about your achievents to those you can. You are doing the will of The Lord and all should know the power of that.
Be proud of your clan.

And she did not expect to dance. But then came a man, a handsome man hidden behind the biggest mask of the ball. It was a funny mask that Jezebel liked. It was like a human, but twisted face with a great big mouth with enormous teeth. She remembered the monster from a painting of Hieronymus Bosch that the Reverend had showed her. Then the monster had been eating people. She thougth that was fitting.

Once more she was invited to dance. He was covered in bandages, but she noticed that they were new, fresh for the ball. This time, dancing went better but something he said went like a nail through her heart.

"I'm not very good at this"
"You glide..."

Did she? Did she glide? He said it with his voice completley broken, a man who choked to death. She lost track and concentration. He felt damp to her touch, the smell cool earth, dark places and despair went through her. It was like starting to offer your hand to someone who is drowning but then retracting it because you´re not sure if they will drag you under instead. She left the dancefloor dizzy.

And that is why she couldn't remember if that dance was before or after they called some of those who were in Malmoe up on stage and had some sort of a speech. Because he was there...and behind her, the elder Skuld. The crowds of people fell away. Everything became silent and dark inside her head, with three lights flickering....her own....his.....and his lady for the evening. And she...turned around.....to look at her...

The shimmer is always there for Talulah. But what she is looking at right now is so much older than most. Maybe that is normal here, as far as vampires go, but to Talulah it is ancient. The physical table that occupies the space between herself and the elder woman first elongates, becomes a road into infinity, and then vanishes. It is just them now. It is crystal-clear, an amazing floating egg. The crystal is tinted with gold, pink and silver which swirls hypnoticly on the surface of the egg. It really is beautifull. But what lies within is not. For Skuld has company within her egg. Talulah can not hold the gasp from slipping out between her lips.
The...creatures rage insanely in their captivity, always almost on the verge of breaking through. It is to much, too strong, and she cannot bear it. Skulds eyelids start to move, she's about to look up from her folded hands on the table. A chill runs from Talulahs head to her toes and she is forced to look away.

They are let down from the stage. Talulah waits for the others, and him to walk down the short stair before she looks back at the struggling beasts once more and hides herself in the shimmering sea of souls that is covering the ballroom floor.
There is the host of the ball, the tremere that fought with them i Malmoe. He's wearing his hair tied back and a has a giant red tie. His cold mistress, leader of the clan sits stiffly against the left wall. The angel and the warrior woman from the brujah clan are waltzing as Talulah passes them by. Hadn't it been for their signature spirits, Talulah would never had know it was them. They look so different in their masks and formal wear.
How scared the human guard gets when she passes by to close for his tastes, and then she finds a chair to hang on to. Then time speeds up, like it had to catch up from falling behind when she was caught up on stage. People whirr past, dancing, dancing. Their voices rumble in unintelligble swedish.

Then everyone stops and look to the stage again and even though she does not understand what the skinny man that almost definetnly i Af Wissen (although he seems different) is saying, it seemes like everything will be over very soon.

And she is sad. She is so very sad that he didn't ask, And something she doesn't understand burns inside as she looks up to get a last look at the woman on the stage from afar, through all the people who've begun to dance once more.

And this is when it happens. That the couple dance right, and left, and leaves a passage in the middle. They divide like the red sea, not even noticing, and they let him through in his white uniform, with the gold and the red. A gloved hand is extended.

She doesn't even hear him ask. She hardly hears the music.
She gets her dance. The one that mattered.

Talulah! Take these drinks to Stars customer! And be quick about it! The older woman shoved the tray into Talulahs hands. That,and her voice with the southern drawl abruptly awoke Talulah from the daydreams she'd been having. The jazzband was playing, just happy to have a gig tonight.
That girl is a bit slow, Martha, the forty-something with red hair remarked to her younger collegue who was hanging by the bar waiting to be approached by any man who earlier on had seen her dance and maybe would request a private show. Cigarette smoke streamed between her lips when she replied by a consenting murmur and a I hear you Sally to her superior's remark. It had been a slow night, in a slow month, of a slow year despite the fact that they now served booze again. It was still illegal in some ways, but what the customer wanted, the customer got.

Talulah balanced the tray real carefull all the way to table number five and gently put the drinks down, avoiding Stars grinding buttocks. She was certain not to look either Star, nor the customer directly in the face and shyed away with an excusing a quickly fading smile as she backed away with the half-empty glasses of beer she had collected. Unfortantly she backed into someone. The band stopped playing.

The man didn't even care too look too see who got beer on his two-dollar suit before he landed a punch straight in the middle of her face. She was thrown to the floor with a whimper and immediatly started to cry quietly. This seemed to infuriate him.

Merv! Talulahs getting a beating again! the older woman shouted, with voice hardly descibably as caring, into the deep recesses of the bar. The man keept hitting. Star had stopped grinding and started screaming. From behind the bar came the man Sally had been shouting for. Woman! Get Jericho! Don't just stand there! But from the front door, already something was coming that could only be descried as a mountain of dark, muscular flesh.
That's it, You are so out of here! His voice was like stones booming against eachother, a deep rumbling from within. His hands that grabbed the offendor were like slabs of stone and his arms were muscular like atlas. The man was lifted clear of the floor and shoved through the room towards the back door where Jericho could work him over in privacy. The kind of privacy a back ally behind a strip club gives you.

They were bending over her. Star, Sally, Merv and Martha. The rest of the dancers had given the row a glance and then devoted themselves to keeping the customers busy. Martha was still smoking, Star was in still in tears, Merv concerned and Sally had that look on her face. Talulah coughed and tried to wipe the blood away from her split lip. She was crying, huddled on the floor. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry Sally. I tried to be carefull, I'll be even moore carefull. Please, please forgive me. Tears ran down her cheeks, mixing with the blood and the grime she got of the floor. There was yet another moment of silence, but then one of the jazz-players, a saxophonist took out a melody and the band started playing again.

They got her of the floor and she fell silent. Merv looked at Sally, like all of them. Don't look at me! Sally said, we all know she was like that when she got here! They nodded....it was true. Merv had Jericho take her to their "Doctor" anyway, to see that nothing serious was broken. Jericho told him what had happened but said nothing about the old scars. They paid 10 dollars, some of it for his time, some for his silence. Jericho came here often, because of the job, but they rarely spoke.

There was many...things she did not...reemember...but she was graaatefull that she had been allowed to float in the LORDS...precense for such att long time. Now she was back.

Gothenburg seemed a strange city to her. Other things did too. It was different than it had been before.
Kiralý had introduced her to some other gangrel and two of them had been watching her since. There was arrangements made for her, where to sleep. And they left. The arrangements were simple and she liked them and was gratefull. There had been no sign of her host.

Then there was day and Talulah Jezebel slept.

The next night was warm. Jezebel did not have a watch anymore but it felt like it was late for her to rise. There was a park, but no leafs were on the trees. She walked around for a bit, watching the young people. There was a smell of charcoal, beer and urine.

Hallå! Hej bruden! Du ser ju Dô ut!

Jezebel had already been looking at the two boys for a while but they had not seen her. They were the right type. She was hungry. But she was not presented. Not to the prince. Not to the Senschal. She opened her hand and waved. It was the same insecure wave that usually came when she tried.